Keynote Address
at the Connecting to Collections National Conservation
Summit
Donald W. Reynolds Center for American Art and Portraiture
Allen Weinstein, Archivist of
the United States
June 27, 2007
Exactly a year ago tonight, in the middle of the night,
I was wading through ankle-deep water in the basement
of the National Archives Building, watching the flooding
without the ability to affect its impact. A man approached
me and introduced himself as an official of the company
hired to pump the water out of the building. He asked
if I was the Archivist, and when I acknowledged that
I was, he said that he wished to reassure me that the
Charters of Freedom were perfectly safe. "They’re
all safe and dry," he said—something I already
knew, but then he added, "Yes, they’re all
in the trunk of my car."
While I decided whether I would bop him one or simply
walk away, he apologized for the joke. I have to admit,
however, that he achieved his purpose. I began chuckling
and relaxing and allowing my staff to do their work.
That gentleman is with us this evening, and I would
like to acknowledge him. Dean McKinney, would you raise
your hand? A word of advice to all of you: If your facility
is flooded or burning or otherwise being damaged, find
a McKinney and trust him to calm you down.
Let me begin by recognizing the rich diversity among
the hundreds of organizations represented at this conference,
a tribute to its organizers but also to each and every
participant: from public libraries to civil rights institutes,
from state museums, libraries, and archives to Native
American cultural centers, from university-based facilities
to historical societies and private art museums, from
ethno-cultural collections to distinctive personal or
regional entities. And that hardly exhausts the range
of organizations represented here. Truthfully, I should
be calling the roll now, acknowledging the unique richness
of American cultural life represented here, but perhaps
you will accept a round of applause instead, one expressing
our gratitude for being together here and to the sponsors
who have brought us together.
I want first to thank the Institute of Museum and Library
Services (IMLS) and its remarkable director, Anne-Imelda
Radice, for having invited me to speak to you at this
National Conservation Summit organized by IMLS and Heritage
Preservation. The summit’s theme is "Connecting
to Collections," in my time tonight, I would like
to share with you some reflections on the concrete themes
of this two-day dialogue: "Connecting to Expertise,"
"Connecting to Technology," "Connecting
to Funders," and "Connecting to the Public."
These themes took a number of us to Mississippi, Louisiana,
and elsewhere on the Gulf Coast, after Hurricanes Katrina
and Rita, in furious, if poorly funded and barely organized,
efforts to rescue museum, library, and archival collections
of every size and value. (I notice a co-conspirator
from that expedition on the IMLS program, Hank Holmes
of Mississippi, and I should note that FEMA still does
not recognize our efforts as deserving full representation
in FEMA. Funding support and legitimacy—all the
more reason for those gathered here for this important
conference to speak up.
First, about the preservation of our collections—however
small and uncostly—and the need for us to defend
the importance and urgency of caring properly for these
precious artifacts and vital records. I consider a crucial
and absorbing part of my work as Archivist of the United
States to involve support for, and strengthening of,
the partnerships (private and public sectors) through
which we care for our cultural heritage, whether in
emergencies or at normal moments.
A personal example: In the National Archives headquarters
building just a few blocks from here, there are housed
and preserved under my personal supervision and that
of my staff the three most important documents of our
nation, its founding documents—the Declaration
of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights.
One of them, the Declaration of Independence, was displayed
in this building for 34 years, when it was the Patent
Office Building, in what was then the Hall of Models,
the first major exhibition space in Washington.
But over the years, the Declaration was not preserved
properly, and today, it has faded to the point where
it is difficult to read the courageous words that the
signers agreed to, risking their fortunes and their
futures. Now in the care of the National Archives, the
Declaration is sealed in a special, environmentally
controlled encasement, shielded from bright lights,
and secured and guarded around the clock.
These are extraordinary steps taken to preserve an
extraordinary document, which is much more than what
we do for most other documents under our supervision.
But it provides an example of the high priority we Americans
place on preservation and conservation—as well
as an example of what can happen, even to an historic
document, absent proper preservation.
As most of you know, it was only the decision by then-Secretary
of State, John Quincy Adams, in 1820 to hire an engraver,
William J. Stone, to design and execute an engraving
of the Declaration—at the cost of its remaining
ink—which has assured continuing access to this
beloved and beautiful reproduction of the hallowed original.
And yet there, in the Rotunda of the National Archives,
the public remains enamored of that vaguely illegible
original Declaration of Independence, revering its faded
contents.
Why? Why dedicate ourselves to preserving, in our museums
and libraries and archives, original artifacts, documents,
art works, photos, paintings, and other objects whose
value remains irreplaceable to us if not priceless?
The reasons, of course, are many and some obvious:
And these materials, indeed, allow us in both physical
and metaphorical ways to "touch" the past,
to comprehend what "eyewitnesses" to the documents
or artifacts saw or thought when they were first created.
Why is preserving the original documents, art, photographs
and other objects we hold so important to us all? Obviously,
they represent the vibrancy and diversity of our heritage.
They provide a link to a different time. They are primary
sources for those of us who study the past and seek
to learn from it. They tell stories and teach us about
ourselves and each other.
They are as close as we can get to having been there.
And proper preservation of these collections, in libraries,
museums, and archives large and small, will allow future
generations to "touch" them many years from
now.
An original painting allows us to stand before it,
exactly where the artist did, to enjoy and understand
the brushwork, the colors, the size, the play of light
on the paint. An original antique chair helps us understand
the kind of daily surroundings of Americans and how
they lived their lives. The original manuscript of a
famous book allows us to see the thoughts and notations
of the author as he or she polishes what will become
a literary triumph.
These artifacts and documents and images represent
the primary assets of our cultural institutions and
are the reason for our existence as curators, guardians,
and stewards of history. We are here to ensure that
they survive, intact and authentic, for future generations.
They reflect what we want others to know about the communities
we represent. They reflect who we are and why what we
do is important—regardless of their size, splendor,
richness, or monetary value.
A personal story: for 16 years I taught at Smith College
in western Massachusetts, which housed a far-from-gigantic
but exquisite collection, both archives and artifacts,
on the history of women in this country called the Sophia
Smith Collection, named for the college’s initial
benefactor. It was the center of pride and joy for all
of us who passed through its rooms, used its documents,
and enjoyed its historic contents, and I recall it fondly
to this day.
In short, we must speak out loud and clear about the
need to preserve our collections and take action to
care for the collections in our institutions. The stakes
could not be higher. Without proper preservation and
conservation, much of our heritage is in dire jeopardy—and
at risk of being lost forever.
Simply asking and pleading for more resources for preservation,
however, will not be enough. We must be more pro-active,
more aggressive in seeking these resources. We must
ensure that governing bodies, especially the U.S. Congress
and state legislatures, understand this need and their
obligation to provide essential resources. Finally,
we must fully integrate preservation care into the life
of our institutions and all that we do.
The task is daunting, and the recent heritage health
index provides little comfort. This survey of museums,
libraries, archives, historical societies, and scientific
research organizations found that millions upon millions
of works of art, historic objects, photographs, natural
science specimens, and rare and unique books, periodicals,
and scrapbooks were at risk and required immediate care.
* * *
Preservation, ironically, is both more difficult today
than it ever has been and the best it ever has been.
But even with the best preservation care, we face the
prospect of devastating natural disasters, such as the
hurricanes that struck the Gulf Coast not so long ago.
Theft is also a constant threat. During normal hours,
visitors can sometimes walk off with small objects from
a museum or records from an archive or library. The
problem is compounded at those numerous cultural institutions
that cannot afford adequate human or mechanical supervision—our
smaller, less endowed facilities. Nor do we help matters
by trying, as a number of such institutions do, to hide
the fact of such thefts rather than publicize and seek
out and punish the culprits, while regaining the items
stolen.
In addition, the threat of terrorism is now something
we must live with every day. Collections of all types
are at risk of being lost, destroyed or damaged, or
rendered inaccessible in a serious terror attack on
one of our large cities.
Operating costs, especially for energy, security, and
personnel, are rising, increasing the challenge of providing
the optimum storage environment.
* * *
But even when resources are limited, we must all make
it clear that preservation remains a high priority at
our institutions:
We must spell out our goals for preservation in strategic
plans or whatever documents guide our institutions from
year to year—make preservation not just understood,
but an explicit mission, with goals and criteria to
measure progress.
Let us ensure that our staffs recognize that preserving
collections is a joint responsibility, with most staff
members having a major role in accomplishing the goal—from
how the collections are handled, to the way they are
displayed, to assessing needs, to allocation of resources.
It’s important to clearly designate who on your
staffs have the leadership responsibility for collection
care.
We need to create the proper environment to protect
collections from damage and avoid the need for costly
remediation. This is our most effective approach to
achieving preservation goals.
It is also crucial to provide safe conditions for our
holdings, as safe as they can be from fires and floods
and environmental dangers as well as from thieves. Conditions
should be monitored and evaluated regularly to ensure
such safety.
We should develop emergency plans to spell out how
we will react to disasters or a terrorism attack. If
a disaster comes, there will be very little time to
consider our actions, so those decisions must be made
in advance.
Above all, we have to learn what is needed to preserve
the collections, drawing on the conservationists and
preservationists to obtain the expertise needed.
Nor should we be discouraged by the often-frustrating
quest for funding from private sector and Federal and
state sources—even when the results fall well
short of expectations. We need to make incremental progress
and set realistic goals.
* * *
Coupled with our efforts to raise the level of awareness
about the importance of preservation should come an
increasing emphasis on access. That is, of course, why
we are preserving these records and artifacts and images—so
Americans can see, enjoy and study them and, in the
case of records, use them as important research tools.
Increased accessibility will bring a greater appreciation
of the value of our collections and their preservation
needs. And technology will play a major role—by
providing both a means of preservation through digitization
and a means of access via the Internet. But we will
need to find ways to harness this rapidly advancing
technology to meet our preservation goals while not
jeopardizing the resources we put into traditional collections.
In closing, I urge all of you to reach out not only
to your old friends but to seek new audiences to tell
the stories of our institutions, what we do, and why
our work is important.
Tell them what is happening to artifacts and documents
in your care and why it’s necessary to confront
the problems now. Try to find your own personal Dean
McKinney to calm you down for the challenges ahead—and
plunge in!
Finally, as you embark on your important work—the
work of this summit, for example—keep in mind
an organizational lesson you are likely to encounter,
whatever your chosen field, as summarized in the well-known
"six phases of a project."